The Outsider (James Bishop 4)

by Dean, Jason

  Emily puffed her cheeks. ‘About three weeks, I guess. Maybe a little less. We were both getting real nervous just waiting around in the open, so Paul called your company and soon after you showed up with your team and took us to that house in Arkansas.’

  ‘Three weeks would be more than enough time to find himself a good hiding place. During your time there did Paul ever go to one of those self-storage places, or mention that he was going to visit one?’

  She shook her head again. ‘No, nothing like that. At least, not that I know of.’

  Bishop nodded vaguely. He’d had to ask, but he’d never heard of a self-storage place requiring a customer to show ID in order to access their locker. And even if Mechner had rented one he would have added his own padlock, or disc lock, for extra security. And the key on the table wasn’t big enough to open either.

  ‘And if you’re thinking about a safe-deposit box,’ she said, ‘Paul made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere near a bank. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that was the best way for Hartnell to track us.’

  ‘There’s no way he could rent a box with fake ID anyway,’ Bishop said. ‘Banks tend to check little things like that.’

  He rubbed a palm over his head as he thought it over. He was getting one of those feelings again. After all, who said it had to be a bank safety deposit box? He knew there were plenty of private companies around who supplied the same service, and they didn’t have to adhere to the same federal and state regulations as banks did either. A place like that would have been perfect for Mechner’s needs. As long as you paid enough upfront, your valuables could remain untouched for years. Decades, even. And they’d be far more secure there than in some self-storage locker.

  Turning to Dario, he said, ‘Let me have your phone for a second.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I want to see how many private vault companies there are in Oklahoma City.’

  Dario pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped the screen. ‘I’ll do it. Private vault company, yeah?’

  Bishop nodded and waited while Dario tapped his fingers against the display. After about thirty seconds, he started frowning as he used a finger to scroll down.

  ‘Anything?’ Bishop asked.

  Dario scrolled back up and nodded. ‘Only one place. Called the Greystone Vault and Safe Deposit Box Company, at 1640 South May Avenue.’

  ‘Greystone,’ Bishop said, turning back to Emily. ‘That name ring any bells?’

  Her brows came together as she repeated the name to herself. ‘You know, it kind of does? But I know for a fact that I never visited …’ She closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened them again. ‘Wait, I know what it was. I was darting out of the motel bathroom one morning to grab my toothbrush from the desk and Paul was talking to somebody on the room phone and I heard him say Greystone, or greyhound, maybe. Something like that. At least, I think I did. It was so long ago, and I never heard the rest of the conversation. I could be totally wrong.’

  ‘Well, it’s all we’ve got to go on now,’ Bishop said, and turned to Dario again. ‘Let me have your phone. I want to give this place a call.’

  Dario slapped the phone into Bishop’s hand. Bishop then scrolled down the web page until he found the contact information. There were three phone numbers. He memorized them, quit out of the browser and keyed in the first number. He brought the phone to his ear and heard a brief ringing tone and almost straight away, a female voice said, ‘Greystone. How may I help you?’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Bishop said. ‘My name’s Mark Tamill. I currently rent a safety-deposit box from you. I opened the account about ten years ago and paid for a long-term rental upfront, but I can’t remember the exact date, and I’d just like to know roughly when my next payment’s due. I don’t have those details to hand for some reason.’

  ‘That’s no problem, sir. If I could just have your name again, please?’

  ‘Mark Tamill. That’s two Ls.’

  ‘Thank you.’ There was the sound of fingers tapping a keyboard. And then more tapping. Bishop found he was holding his breath. The tapping stopped for a few seconds, then started up again. Finally, the woman said, ‘And can I have your wife’s middle name, sir?’

  Bishop breathed out and smiled to himself. That single question meant Tamill was on their system. To Emily, he whispered, ‘What’s your middle name?’

  ‘Victoria,’ she whispered back.

  Bishop repeated the name into the phone. The woman thanked him and kept on tapping. After a few more seconds, she said, ‘I have your details here, sir, and you don’t have to worry. Your account is fully paid up for six more years. Do you want me to give you the exact date for your next renewal?’

  ‘No, that’s not necessary. But thanks, that’s a real weight off my mind. Oh, while I’m here, can you remind me of your opening hours again?’

  ‘We’re open nine till six, Monday through Saturday. Any time outside those hours would need to be by appointment only.’

  ‘And I assume I still need to present you with photo ID as before?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir. A driver’s licence will be fine. And your key, of course.’

  ‘Of course. Well, thanks again for your help.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, sir,’ she said. ‘Have a nice day.’

  Don’t push it, lady, he thought and hung up. He handed the phone back to Dario and said, ‘You all heard. It’s there, all right.’

  ‘So let’s go get it,’ Dario said. ‘What we waiting for, man?’

  Bishop was looking down at the fake licence in his hand. Nobody else had grasped the problem yet, even though it was staring them right in the face.

  Holding up the card, he said, ‘The thing is, before I can access Mark Tamill’s safety deposit box I’m going to have to first present them with Mark Tamill’s ID here. And unless the person checking has got cataracts he’s going to notice that not only am I the wrong age but I don’t look anything like the man in this photo.’

  Then he turned to Emily’s husband and said, ‘But you do.’

  FIFTY-FIVE

  ‘Oh, no, no, no,’ Rylander said, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Not a chance, Bishop. You can put that little idea out of your mind right now.’

  ‘Look, I need your help, Mr Rylander,’ Bishop said. ‘It’s that simple. I can’t do it without you.’

  ‘But I don’t look anything like Paul.’

  ‘I disagree,’ Bishop said, and turned to Emily. ‘How about you?’

  Emily sighed. ‘There’s a resemblance, Chris. You know there is. That’s part of the reason I said yes when you first asked me out, remember? We’ve joked about it before.’

  ‘But that was just us kidding each other, Em. This is about me trying to pass myself off as another man entirely. Plus I’m almost a head taller than Paul was.’

  ‘So stoop a little,’ Bishop said. ‘We’re not talking about a major inspection here. Whoever’s on security will take a quick look at the photo on the licence, then make a comparison with the face in front of him, and then he’ll let you through. Easy.’

  Rylander snorted. ‘Easy, he says. Well, maybe I don’t want to risk it. What do you think of that?’

  Dario started unbuttoning his jacket and Bishop gave a minute shake of his head. That was the very last thing they needed at this point. Fortunately Dario saw sense for once and slowly lowered his hands.

  ‘I can’t force you, Mr Rylander,’ Bishop said, ‘but I wasn’t lying when I said lives were at stake here. Besides, whatever’s in that box is actually Emily’s property now, so it’s not like you’d be doing anything wrong. At least, not in the moral sense.’

  ‘And what about the legal sense, Bishop? What if they see straight away I’m not the same man, which they will, and call the police? What then?’

  ‘You’re worrying about nothing. Even if the worst comes to the worst, which it won’t, about all they can hold you for is for impersonating some guy named Mark Tamill, who never actually existed in
the first place. Believe me, cops have got better things to do with their time. Look, all I’m asking is for you to drive to Oklahoma City with us, get whatever’s in the box and bring it out to us, and then we’ll go our separate ways. That’s all.’

  Rylander was still shaking his head when Emily said, ‘I think we should help, Chris.’

  ‘You do?’ He blinked at his wife. ‘How come?’

  ‘Because there are lives at stake here, and it’s really not much to ask. Besides, Bishop saved Paul’s life ten years ago, back at that house in Arkansas, and this is a chance for me – for us – to return the favour.’

  Rylander stared at his wife for a few moments, then turned to Bishop with a sigh. ‘Okay. So what do you want us to do?’

  Bishop said, ‘Emily, can you go grab him some flat-soled shoes? He’s tall enough as it is. No sense making things worse.’ She nodded and left the room, while Bishop handed the licence to Rylander. ‘And I’d like you to get a pen and paper and spend a few minutes practising that Mark Tamill signature until you’re happy with it.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’ll probably have to sign in, and maybe sign out, too. But you’re a commercial artist so I can’t see it being a problem for you. And it doesn’t have to be perfect anyway. Just a close approximation will be fine.’

  Rylander walked over to one of the drawers in the kitchen, from which he pulled out a spiral-bound notebook and a pencil, and came back and sat at the table. As he began writing, Bishop turned to Dario and said, ‘What’s the time?’

  Dario glanced at his watch. ‘Nine forty. Less than three and a half hours left, amigo.’

  ‘Maybe you should call Geraldo, then. You can update him on our progress, let him know things look promising.’

  ‘You don’t give the orders here. I call him when I’m ready, understand?’

  Bishop just smiled in response. Small men trying to talk big always amused him, regardless of the situation. Lapdogs, especially.

  ‘We all going in the one vehicle?’ Rylander asked, still writing.

  ‘No,’ Bishop said, ‘Dario and I’ll go in ours, while you and Emily follow us in yours. There’s a time factor here, so once we’ve got the item in question we’ll need to take off fast.’

  And even then, Bishop couldn’t see them making it back to Tulsa before 13.00. He figured at least a two-hour drive to this Greystone place, then maybe another half an hour for Rylander to get the stuff, which meant it would be around midday by the time they set off to Tulsa. Assuming everything else went okay, that is. Pointless worrying about it this stage, though. If the cassette was everything Bishop claimed it was, then he felt sure Guzman’s basic curiosity would win out over his impatience and he’d extend the deadline a little.

  Emily came back carrying a pair of tan suede slip-ons. ‘This old pair of Chris’s is the only ones I could find without heels.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Bishop said.

  Rylander was sitting back and inspecting his efforts so far. Bishop looked over his shoulder and saw the notebook page was filled with Mark Tamill signatures. They started out fairly rough at the top, but improved very quickly. To Bishop’s eye, the signatures near the bottom were almost identical to the one on the licence.

  ‘That’s close enough for government work,’ Bishop said. ‘All right, people, I think we’re good to go.’

  FIFTY-SIX

  It took them just over an hour and three-quarters to reach South May Avenue in Oklahoma City. Most of it had been spent on US 62, where traffic was light and free-flowing for the most part. Once again Bishop drove while Dario sat chewing his gum, speaking only when he had to make his half-hourly report to Geraldo or give Bishop directions from his phone. Never more than three car-lengths behind them was the black Chevy Malibu, with Rylander at the wheel and Emily in the passenger seat.

  It turned out 1640 South May Avenue was actually a fairly large shopping centre, with a CVS Pharmacy as the anchor and various smaller franchise stores trailing off either side. Bishop pulled into the entrance and drove slowly down the parking lot’s central aisle, scanning both sides. Directly opposite CVS was a large branch of the Wells Fargo Bank. And to the left of that was a smaller single-storey stucco building with a portico entrance, above which was a sign bearing the words GREYHOUND VAULT AND SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX COMPANY in block letters. Bishop could make out the tinted glass of the entrance doors further back.

  Bishop peeled off the main aisle and had no difficulty finding a pair of connecting spaces close to the Greystone building. He parked up and killed the engine, and a few seconds later the Chevy pulled in next to them.

  The digital dashboard clock said it was 11.14. Bishop got out and stretched. He walked round the front of the van where Dario was already waiting. Rylander and Emily were both standing next to the Chevy and looking at the Greystone entrance. Back at the house, Rylander had replaced the sweatshirt for a dark sports jacket over a plain white shirt so as to look more presentable. He still didn’t look very happy.

  ‘How you feeling?’ Bishop asked him.

  ‘Nervous,’ Rylander said. ‘This really isn’t my thing, Bishop.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a piece of cake, believe me.’

  The bigger man snorted. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Emily said. ‘And we’ll be right here, waiting for you.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Bishop said. ‘And don’t forget to slouch. It probably won’t make much difference, but it’s a good idea to keep those big shoulders of yours pointing at the floor as much as possible.’

  Rylander slumped his shoulders and immediately lost a couple of inches in height. Bishop nodded his approval. ‘Much better.’ Pulling the fake licence and the key from his jacket pocket, he said, ‘Don’t forget these.’

  ‘How could I?’ Rylander said. As he was slipping them into his own pants pocket, a man in a tan windbreaker walked passed them carrying a canvas sports bag. He approached the Greystone entrance, opened one of the doors and went inside.

  ‘See?’ Bishop said. ‘Plenty of customers visit their safety deposit boxes like it’s nothing it all. Okay, tell me your name.’

  ‘Mark Tamill.’

  Bishop smiled. ‘Right, you’re good to go.’

  Rylander took a deep breath and said, ‘Well, wish me luck.’

  ‘You won’t need it,’ Bishop said.

  ‘Go get ’em, tiger,’ Emily said.

  They all watched Rylander lope off towards the portico entrance as though he were being led to the electric chair. He opened the left-hand door and disappeared inside.

  Now it was just a waiting game. Bishop hadn’t been lying to the guy before. He felt certain they’d only give the ID a cursory check, but Rylander’s nervousness could be a problem. Well, it was out of their hands now. All they could do was wait.

  Dario, still chewing loudly, leaned against the side of the van and started playing with his cell phone. Emily turned to Bishop and said, ‘How long will it take, do you think?’

  ‘Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe.’ Bishop gently steered Emily to the front of the van until they were just out of Dario’s earshot. ‘No way of telling really.’

  She searched his face. ‘Just how bad are things for you, Bishop?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, they’re not good. All I can do at the moment is take things one step at a time. To be honest, everything kind of depends on what your husband brings out with him. And if it’s what I hope it is then at least I’ll get some extra breathing space.’

  ‘And if it’s not?’

  ‘That’s a bridge I’ll cross if and when I come to it.’

  They both lapsed into silence after that. Bishop found his thoughts turning to the two hostages back at the apartment. Clea, in particular. Not only was she an innocent civilian in all this, but she was also a lone woman amongst a gang of thugs used to taking what they wanted, whenever they wanted. But the deal had been to let them all go unharmed, and Guzman had ordered G
eraldo to stay put and watch over them for a reason. And Geraldo had struck Bishop as a pro, much more so than Dario and the other two.

  But the rule was, never waste time worrying about things over which you have no control. And the situation at the apartment was very much out of his control right now.

  Instead, he turned his thoughts to Deputy Marshal Frank Lomax again – the possible source of the leak that started all this – and that tense phone call Bishop had overheard yesterday morning with the guy’s wife. They lived in Bloomington, he’d said. Bishop remembered seeing it on a map and knew it was somewhere south of Indianapolis, in which case they’d probably be passing the place on the way to Ohio. Maybe he could afford to make a short detour before continuing their journey. If they had time, of course. And assuming he and Strickland survived the next few hours, which was far from guaranteed at the moment. Still, he’d learned long ago that it was always better to be prepared than not.

  He turned to Emily and said, ‘Did you bring your cell phone with you?’

  ‘I certainly did.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I think I did.’ She began patting both sides of her coat and stopped when she felt the left-hand pocket. Smiling, she pulled out a basic Samsung and handed it to him.

  Thanking her, Bishop keyed in the same number as before and brought the phone to his ear. It rang. He waited.

  When the call connected, the same voice said, ‘Muro Investigations.’

  ‘It’s me again,’ Bishop said. ‘We talked a short while ago.’

  ‘Hello, man-with-no-name. And using a different number this time, I notice.’

  ‘The phone belongs to the lady I asked you to find before, who’s actually standing here right next to me.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it? So what do you want from me now?’

  ‘The home address for a man named Frank Lomax. He’s a US marshal who lives in Bloomington, Indiana, with a wife named Karen. That’s about as much as I know.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound too hard. You want to wait on the line again?’